Unlikely Allies
by zap777
Summary: The best in their criminal fields, two people must join forces to complete a dangerous job for the mafia.
1. Default Chapter

The brown haired man awoke excruciating slowly and painfully, straining to break the seal of crud that had formed overnight between his eyelids.  
  
"Where am I?" He thought to himself as he tried to sit up.  
  
He successfully opened his eyes to the very blurry sight of a run-down motel room. A second wave of dull pain hit him, producing a screaming headache.  
  
Grabbing his head, he extracted himself from the starchy motel sheets, and made his way to what appeared to be the sink.  
  
"Shit!" He cursed as he knocked over an end table. Empty beer and liquor bottles crashed to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. Grumbling, he made his way to the sink, where he promptly turned on the faucets and splashed cold water onto his face. He dried himself and looked into the mirror. Something moved on the bed. Quickly, he spun around and laid eyes on the moving lump on the bed.  
  
"Who the hell are you?"  
  
The lump quit moving for a second before a blonde haired head appeared above the sheets.  
  
A woman.  
  
"What?" She asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.  
  
"Why am I in a motel? And who the hell are you?" The man asked, confused.  
  
"Good morning to you, too." She said as she pushed several unruly strands of hair from her face.  
  
The man's brown eyes laid to rest on several articles of clothing scattered all over the stained carpet. Quickly, he snatched up his clothing and began to put them on.  
  
"Do I know you?" He said, busying himself with his belt, "Do I owe you any money?"  
  
The attractive blonde also got up from the bed and began to dress herself.  
  
"You can't remember? You must've really been drunk." She said, sounding slightly angry at his last remark.  
  
"Sorry, can't remember." He said, buttoning up his dark blue shirt.  
  
"Elizabeth. Liz . . . we met at a bar last night."  
  
The man stood there for a while, thinking, before snapping his fingers.  
  
"That's right...I remember now, we played pool, then we had some drinks, and then..." He said, eyeing the bed.  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
An awkward moment prevailed in the dingy motel room before Liz stood up and walked to the mirror. Extracting a brush, she quickly brushed her blonde hair back into a short ponytail. Liz's green eyes then shifted towards the door.  
  
"Listen, I need to get going...can I get a ride?" She asked.  
  
Daniel Richter reached for his leather jacket and found his personal sidearm underneath. The Berretta handgun shone dully before he slipped it into his waistband and covered it with jacket.  
  
"Yeah, come on..." Dan replied.  
  
Elizabeth Blackwell grabbed her coat and followed him through the door. Dan swore as the bright sunlight hit his eyes, worsening his headache.  
  
"You got any aspirin or something? My head's killing me." He asked, shielding his eyes.  
  
"No." Liz said as they walked down the stairs to the motel's oil stained parking lot.  
  
Dan shook his head and continued to his car, parked in the parking lot. He walked across the lot to a 1964 Chevrolet Impala. He slid inside and unlocked the passenger side's door. A moment later, Liz entered and buckled herself in. The muscle car roared to life as he turned the key. Dan depressed the brake pedal and shifted the car into drive, then peeled out as they left the near empty parking lot.  
  
"Where do I drop you off?" He asked, simultaniously driving and lighting a cigarette.  
  
Liz crossed her arms over her ample breasts.  
  
"Zaibatsu Italian Restaurant." She replied.  
  
"No shit? That's where I'm headed." He said, taking a drag on his cigarette." So, what's your business there?"  
  
"I've got a meeting with the owner." She said," You know those are bad for you." Liz continued, pointing to his lit cigarette.  
  
"I don't give a fuck...anyway, what are you, a waitress?" Dan asked as he flicked his cigarette out of the window and onto the busy streets of Liberty City.  
  
"Something like that. Why are you going?" Liz asked, eyeing him curiously.  
  
"I just gotta take care of something. Nothing much else." Dan said as he turned left on 42nd and Pulaski.  
  
Liz sighed and sat without moving as they drove in silence for the rest of the way. After a long drive, which was extended due to traffic, they arrived at their destination in downtown Portland. Liz looked around through the window at the family friendly restaurant. Her first thought was that Portland was an odd place to put a family restaurant. The hookers and drug dealers didn't really add to the appeal. The car rolled to a stop next to the curb. Stepping out of the vehicle, Dan surveyed the small, one-story building with a large sign that read  
  
--Zaibatsu Italian Restaurant: The Best in Liberty City--  
  
Walking up to the large glass door, Liz opened it and was about to enter, when Dan quickly pushed in front of her and went inside. Angrily, she kicked him in the back of the knee.  
  
"Ow! What the hell did you do that for?!" He cried as he stumbled.  
  
"Ladies first." She said, taking the lead once again.  
  
Dan muttered to himself and limped after her to the empty main desk. As they waited, he looked around the restaurant. Families filled the restaurant, eating, drinking and laughing. The air was a mixture of garlic, wine and freshly prepared food.  
  
"Can I help you?" The waiter asked, arriving at the main desk and looking down at his guest book.  
  
"Yes." Liz said quickly," I'm here to meet someone."  
  
"Me too." Dan added.  
  
The waiter looked up from his book and noticed their faces for the first time. His expression changed quickly from friendliness to solemnity.  
  
"Name?" He asked, quietly, as if trying to avoid the ears of the patrons.  
  
"Don Carlos." Both of them said in unison. Surprised, they quickly turned to look at each other, a suspicious look on both of their faces.  
  
The waiter turned around and shouted something very quickly in Italian to the kitchen. The response floated back in a moment later.  
  
"It will be a moment. Please sit and enjoy some complimentary breadsticks." The waiter said as he left his post and hurried into the kitchen.  
  
Dan nodded and turned around, walking to a booth. Liz followed behind him and slid into the bench, opposite him.  
  
"A waitress?" Dan asked, skeptically.  
  
"I didn't say I was." She said, shrugging.  
  
"So what are you really doing here?"  
  
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." Liz avoided the question and reached for the breadstick basket.  
  
Before she could grab one, Dan grabbed the basket and slid it away.  
  
"Too bad you won't tell me. I know that not just anyone can get an audience with the Don." He said, rolling a breadstick around in his hand.  
  
"Fine, I'll tell you," She said bluntly, "I kill people for a living."  
  
She waited for the expected response, either a laugh or a look of horror, but noticed that Dan's face was deadpan.  
  
"So . . . you're a hired gun too?" Dan asked as he bit into a breadstick.  
  
Liz shook her head rested her chin on her elbow.  
  
"You kill people for money, don't you?" He asked again.  
  
"I'm not a 'hired gun' like you say. Yeah, I kill for money, but that's where our differences start. You see, I'm a professional. One of the best. You, on the other hand," She said, pointing to him, "are nothing but a lowly thug."  
  
After Liz had finished speaking, Dan burst into a fit of laughing, which, to Liz's distaste, exposed the chewed up remains of a breadstick.  
  
"That's disgusting." She said, turning away.  
  
Dan narrowed his eyes and stuffed another one in his mouth, this time deliberately chewing with his mouth wide open.  
  
"Asshole . . ." She said.  
  
"Bitch . . ." He shot back.  
  
Liz bolted upright.  
  
"What did you just call me?" She asked angrily.  
  
"Should I spell it out for you?"  
  
"I'm gonna kick your ass when we leave this restaurant." Liz said angrily.  
  
"Whoa, since when is there a--we--here? After this, you can call yourself a cab." He said.  
  
"Fine by me. In fact, I'm---" Liz said before she was interrupted by the waiter.  
  
"Excuse me, but Don Carlos wishes to see you now. Both of you."  
  
Liz Blackwell angrily got up and stormed after the waiter, with Dan walking slowly behind her. They passed by the occupied tables and into the kitchen. The place was swarming with cooks, scurrying around preparing fragrant dishes. The waiter led them through the stainless-steel kitchen to a back door blocked by a man that looked like he could be a pro wrestler.  
  
"Guns?" He asked in a surly manner, holding out a wooden tray.  
  
Dan sighed and pulled out his Beretta, ejected the clip and placed both in the tray. Liz did the same with the .45 she carried in her jacket. After a quick search by the guard, he led them through the door.  
  
The office reeked of cigars. As they entered, Dan noticed a trio of armed guards with AK-47's. The room was all polished wood. A large bookcase filled with ornate books decorated a wall, while on the opposite side, black and white pictures were hung, none of which was recognizable to Dan. Placed straight ahead was a large oak desk. Behind it was a fat, bald man whom he quickly identified as Don Carlos.  
  
"Ah, please," Don Carlos said, pointing to two leather chairs." Come, sit!"  
  
"Don Carlos, it's an honor." Dan said, shaking his hand.  
  
"Richter." He said simply, nodding.  
  
Liz also shook his hand.  
  
"My, my. What is such a beautiful woman doing in this line of work?" Don Carlos said, lightly touching his lips to her hand.  
  
Liz smiled and blushed slightly before sitting down in the padded leather seats.  
  
"Would you two like some vino?" Don Carlos asked, looking at the wine bottle he was holding." It's a very good year."  
  
"No thank you." They both responded, the thought of alcohol unpleasing to them.  
  
The Don nodded and poured himself a glass.  
  
"So, Richter and Blackwell...Your reputations precede you." He said, sipping his wine. I have heard many great things about you."  
  
Dan and Liz nodded.  
  
"Let's talk about your particular assignment. If you haven't figured this out yet, you two will be working together." He said, pointing to both of them.  
  
After hearing the Don's declaration, Liz stood up in protest, but quickly sat back down when the guards pointed their rifles at her.  
  
"With all due respect, sir, I cannot work with this . . .this . . .thing!" She said.  
  
"And you think I want to work with an egotistical, nagging bitch!?" Dan shot back.  
  
"What?! How dare you insult me! Listen, you big, stupid jackass!" She yelled, ready to punch him.  
  
"Hey! Calm down." Don Carlos said, waving his hands." I can see that you'll make a great team." He said sarcastically.  
  
Liz sat back in her seat, the red draining from her face.  
  
"So, what would you like us to do?" She asked, frowning at the word 'us'.  
  
The Don extracted something from his desk drawer.  
  
"Are you two familiar with this man?" He asked, sliding a photograph across the desk towards them. Dan picked it up and examined it carefully.  
  
"Jimmy Conway . . ." He said, looking at the black and white picture.  
  
"Let me see." Liz said as Dan handed it to her. She stared at it intently.  
  
"Yeah, Jimmy Conway, he runs a big cocaine ring down in . . .Chinatown, doesn't he?" She asked.  
  
"Exactly. He is the Triad's main supplier. A few weeks ago, one of my informants reported to me that Conway was selling on my turf. Now, this is not good for my business. In fact, I've already lost many of my regular customers, not to mention copious amounts of money." Don Carlos explained.  
  
"So you want us to kill him?" Dan asked.  
  
"To put it bluntly, yes." He said.  
  
Liz crossed her shapely legs and folded her hands in her lap.  
  
"How do you want us to do it? I mean, we can't just walk into Chinatown and kill him. He's got Triad protection." She said.  
  
"And I'm really not in their good graces. As soon as they see me . . .I'm fucked." Dan added.  
  
"I thought of that. Sometime today, Conway will be expecting a delivery of coke. I want you two to steal the truck and deliver it to him. Then, whenever you get the chance, take him out." The Don clarified.  
  
Dan leaned forward in his seat.  
  
"So, where can we find the truck, and where exactly do we find Conway?" He asked.  
  
The Don took another photo out and handed it to Dan. He looked at it and saw a U-HAUL type truck, brown, with a triad insignia on the side.  
  
"Turn it over." Don Carlos instructed.  
  
Dan turned it over and noted the address.  
  
"626 Ferdrove Street." He noted.  
  
"That's the delivery point."  
  
"Where do we find the truck?" Liz spoke up.  
  
The Don downed his wine before he answered.  
  
"That will be a slight problem." He said.  
  
"Problem?"  
  
"Yes, the thing is, the truck never takes the same route twice in a row."  
  
Liz visibly frowned upon hearing that.  
  
"So, how are we going to find it?" She asked.  
  
"I've had my people out looking for it all day. One of them told me that he heard that it was going to cross Union Drive Street."  
  
"That's it? That's all you know about where it's going to be?" Dan asked.  
  
"Unfortunately, yes."  
  
"Great . . ." Dan muttered.  
  
Liz sat up and uncrossed her legs.  
  
"Okay, suppose we pull this off...how much money are we talking about?" She asked.  
  
Don Carlos signaled to a guard. The guard grabbed two briefcases from a shelf and gave one to Dan and one to Liz. Dan quickly popped the latches open and laid his eyes on the stacks of hundred dollar bills.  
  
"H-how much is it?" He asked, jaw open.  
  
"Three hundred thousand," The Don replied casually, "This is nothing compared to what I'm losing every day. Do this and you will be at the top of my list for future assignments."  
  
Dan turned his head and saw the look of awe on Liz's face. The guard shut the briefcases and snatched them away. Liz turned to Dan and nodded, a small smile on Dan's face.  
  
"Okay. We'll do it." Dan announced.  
  
Don Carlos laughed deeply and sat back in his chair.  
  
"Good! Good . . ." He said. "By the way, you have a 1964 Impala, black?"  
  
"Yes." Dan said, nodding.  
  
"Here." The Don said as he tossed a set of keys to Dan.  
  
"What are these for?" Dan asked, catching the shining pair of keys.  
  
"Your new car. It'll be parked where your old one was."  
  
"What do you mean -was-?"  
  
"We disposed of it while you were in here."  
  
Inwardly, Dan frowned at the thought of his car being smashed to bits in a car smasher.  
  
"That, my friends, is all the information that I have. Good luck and remember, if you do this for me, you will benefit in many more ways than you can imagine." Don Carlos said, standing up.  
  
They shook hands again as they left the room. They went back through the kitchen and into the restaurant, containing their childish excitement.  
  
"Did you see all of that money!?" Liz asked, excited.  
  
"All three hundred thousand of it." He answered grinning.  
  
Before Dan could take a step towards the door, Liz got in front of him and stopped him.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"If we're going to do this and get our money, then we have to work together. That means no more fighting or arguing." She said.  
  
"Okay." Dan said, offering her his hand.  
  
"All right. Let's do this." Liz Blackwell replied, shaking his hand. 


	2. chapter 2

"I don't see it yet." Liz declared, scanning Union Drive Street from the passenger side of their brand-new, gold, Mercedes Benz. The traffic, while congested earlier, had now lightened a little.  
  
"I know. We've been sitting here all day and haven't seen shit. For all we know, it's already passed us." Dan said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.  
  
"We're going to sit here all day if we need to. I need that three hundred thousand. I've got debts to clear up." She said.  
  
Dan nodded his agreement as he leaned forward in the driver's seat, "Yeah, I need a new car anyway . . . Hey, do you think they'll let me keep this one?"  
  
"Maybe . . . it's way better than that old pre-historic car you had." She said, hoping to get a rise out of him and break up the monotony of watching cars drive by.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"You know, that old, black hunk-of-junk."  
  
Dan turned his head in disbelief towards her. "That car was in mint condition. It was also a cherry, V-8, 1964 Impala SS," He said matter-of- factly," Shows how much you know about cars. I guess you'd prefer to drive an Esperanto."  
  
"That's interesting, considering I know more about cars than you'll ever hope to know." She said, picking at her fingernails.  
  
"Yeah . . . right." Dan said with a snort.  
  
"No, really."  
  
"Okay . . . then you should know the EXACT time it takes for fuel to reach the engine." He challenged.  
  
"What kind of car are we talking about? Is it a sports car or a truck or what?" She asked.  
  
"Quit stalling, you don't know." Dan said as a smirk slowly formed across his face.  
  
"I'm not stalling. I need to know what kind of car it is. See, it all depends on the width of the fuel hose and the pressure behind it. If it's a 4mm, then it'll take about .4069 seconds. If it uses a 6mm, then it'll take .578 . . . 1 seconds." Liz explained nonchalantly as Dan looked at her, his jaw open.  
  
She looked at him, amused at his stunned expression. "Surprised?" She asked.  
  
"How did you know that?"  
  
"My dad was a mechanic. Learned all I know from him," Liz said, "Besides, you don't need to be a genius to read an owner's repair manual."  
  
Satisfied by her response, Dan stretched, tired from sitting in a car all day, regardless of how comfortable the seats were. Sitting in the passenger seat, Liz yawned and looked through the rolled down window. People from all walks of life busily walked by on the gum-laden sidewalks. Some were entering the businesses, which were the usual for this part of Liberty City. Seedy restaurants, adult bookstores, and run-down strip clubs lined the streets. Scanning the streets, her green eyes sighted a hotdog vendor. The stubby man peddled his steamed hotdogs loudly as he pushed his cart down the sidewalk, making himself available for potential customers. Watching the cart, she suddenly realized that she hadn't eaten since yesterday.  
  
"I'm getting some food," She said abruptly, opening the door.  
  
"Hey, get me something too." Dan said as she exited the vehicle.  
  
Liz turned on her heels and stuck her open hand through the window.  
  
"What?" He asked, looking at her outstretched hand.  
  
She just looked at him, her hand still out.  
  
"What . . . oh, come on . . . " He said, not wanting to hand over any of his money.  
  
"Just give me some. In a few hours, you'll be three hundred grand richer, so it doesn't matter." She said.  
  
Dan grudgingly pulled out his wallet and slapped a twenty-dollar bill into her waiting hand. He leaned back in his seat, staring at the empty wallet in his hand. Sighing, Dan stared through the tinted window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the truck.  
  
"I gotta get out of here." He said to himself as he opened the door and stepped out onto the street.  
  
Dan stretched and sat down on the hood of the Benz, looking for the truck.  
  
"Wow, is this your car?" A voice said from behind Dan.  
  
Dan spun around and saw a not too bad-looking woman, eyeing the car.  
  
"Yes. Yes it is." He replied, walking over to her.  
  
She smiled and played with her long black hair.  
  
"It's a Mercedes, right?" She asked, "Looks expensive."  
  
"Yep. Brand-new. I bought it today." Dan said.  
  
The woman ran her hand along the curve of the front end.  
  
"I love these cars," She said, looking at him mischievously, "I think they're so...sexy."  
  
"Yeah? Well, how 'bout I show you the back seat?" He said, getting in close.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?!" An all too familiar voice asked them.  
  
Dan turned his head and saw Liz, holding an armful of hotdogs.  
  
"And who are you?" The woman asked Liz.  
  
"I'm his wife! Who the hell are you?" She asked, putting on an angry face.  
  
Dan was standing behind the brunette, making wild signals for Liz to stop, while they argued.  
  
"Now get the fuck away from my husband! Slut!" Liz yelled, starting towards her.  
  
The woman quickly turned around on her heels and scampered down the congested sidewalk, which was filled with dozens of people who were watching the fiasco. As soon as the woman was out of earshot, Liz started to crack up. Dan stood there, listening to her laugh.  
  
"Why did you do that?! I almost had her! Fuck..." Dan cried, kicking the Benz's tires.  
  
"How 'bout I show you the back seat?" She said, mocking him, as she laughed even harder.  
  
"Haha. Real funny...but I know why you really did that." He said.  
  
Liz slowly stopped laughing. "Why?" She asked, calming down.  
  
"Because...you're jealous!" He accused.  
  
Her eyes shot open.  
  
"What?! I'm jealous?!" She cried," I'm sorry, I don't find stupid apes attractive."  
  
Dan was about to retort, when by chance, his eyes grazed the side mirrors of the car and he saw a brown truck with a Triad insignia on the side, stopped at an intersection, coming their way.  
  
"The truck!" Dan yelled, pointing to it.  
  
Liz spun and saw the brown truck leave the intersection.  
  
"Come on! Let's go!" He yelled as they got into the car, abandoning the hotdogs on the sidewalk.  
  
They watched the truck speed by as Dan turned the key. The V-8 roared as he put it into gear and pulled away from the curb in pursuit of the truck.  
  
"Go! Go! It's getting away!" Liz yelled.  
  
"I know, I know! Leave me alone!"  
  
The Benz sped up and passed a small hatchback. The truck was still two cars up. Dan got into the same lane as the truck.  
  
"How are we going to steal it?"  
  
Dan thought for a minute before he answered.  
  
"What streets intersect Main?"  
  
"...um, 45th, Kedzie, 47th, 6th avenue, and Peachgrove. We're about to stop at 47th." She answered.  
  
"Which intersection is after this one?"  
  
"...Peachgrove."  
  
Dan nodded as he swerved sharply to the right at the intersection of Main and 47th. The brown truck stopped at the red light.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?! Follow the truck!" Liz yelled.  
  
"I'm going to cut it off at the next intersection on Main and Peachgrove." He said, speeding up the street.  
  
The Benz roared up the street, weaving in and out of traffic on the 6- lane street. Dan narrowly dodged a van as the light turned yellow at the intersection. He floored it and turned left, applying the handbrake as he turned. The tires squealed as they fishtailed into the intersection. Straightening out, they continued on their way to the next intersection. Liz turned her head to the driver's side and caught a fleeting glimpse, in between two buildings, of the truck slightly ahead of them.  
  
"Come on, go faster! It's ahead of us!" She yelled, pounding on his shoulder.  
  
"Stop it! Cut it out! Damn!" He yelled back, blocking her attacks, while trying to drive at the same time.  
  
Dan stomped on the accelerator and propelled the vehicle in between two cars. Sparks flew as the side of the Benz scraped with the other two cars. The final intersection was up ahead, coming up fast. The light just turned red.  
  
"Hold on!" Dan said as they sped into the intersection. The car screeched to the left again and was about to exit the intersection, when a blue minivan clipped the back end of the Benz, sending the car into a 360. Dan frantically pulled at the wheel, trying to straighten it out. He succeeded as the car straightened out as they sped up towards the intersection where Main and Peachgrove crossed. Sparks flew out from behind the Benz as a muffler dangled behind it, scraping the asphalt.  
  
"Come on..." He said to himself, speeding towards the Peachgrove and Main.  
  
The car, all smashed up, entered the intersection and screeched to a halt, smoke pouring from the wheel wells. Immediately after it stopped, blocking traffic, the sound of horns and obscenities filled the air.  
  
"There it is." Dan said, pointing to the brown truck beeping wildly at them.  
  
"Let's go." Liz replied, pulling a handgun from her purse.  
  
Dan nodded and got out of the dented vehicle and ran to the driver's side of the brown truck. Liz quickly followed suit, her heels clicking on the asphalt, as she went to the passenger's side.  
  
"Get the fuck out of the way, asshole!" The driver yelled, giving him the finger.  
  
"Get out of the truck, now!" Dan shouted as he drew his Beretta and pointed the gun at the pasty, fat driver.  
  
The driver, seeing him pull the gun, ducked and quickly reached under his seat, extracting a small 9mm Uzi submachine gun.  
  
"Oh, shit..." Dan said as he ducked, avoiding a short burst from the Uzi. The bullets slammed into the pavement, sending bits of pavement into the air.  
  
Liz saw the driver pull a gun and fire on Dan. Quickly, she raised her .45 and pulled the slide back, chambering a round. Running up to the window, she stuck her arm through and fired three shots. The sharp report of the pistol echoed throughout the truck as the slugs hit the driver, splattering the interior crimson-red. Dan got up and was the driver's dead body slump against the door. He ran to the door and opened it, the body falling out onto the street. He saw Liz already sitting there.  
  
"We gotta get out of here!" She said, wiping down the seats.  
  
"Right. Thanks for the..." He said, motioning at the dead driver sprawled out on the street.  
  
"No problem, but hurry up."  
  
Dan quickly got in and turned the ignition. Working the clutch, he went into first gear and maneuvered around the damaged Benz. He changed gears and continued down Main Street.  
  
"Where do we deliver this?" Dan asked.  
  
Liz looked for the photo of the truck.  
  
"I can't find the picture." She said, searching for it.  
  
"What picture?"  
  
"You know...the picture that Don Carlos gave to you. It was the picture of this truck and it had the delivery address on the back."  
  
"Damn...here, hold the wheel." He said.  
  
Liz leaned over and grasped the wheel, while Dan searched his pockets.  
  
"Ah, here we go." He said, extracting a folded photo, "626 Ferdrove Street."  
  
"Ferdrove...that's all the way on Staunton Island." She said as she sat back in her seat, Dan grabbing the wheel once more.  
  
"Guess we gotta take the bridge." Dan said as he turned left.  
  
The truck lurched left at the intersection and continued down the busy street in the direction of the Liberty City Bridge. Liz glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard.  
  
"The bridge should be going up sometime soon." She said, brushing long strands of blonde hair out of her face.  
  
Dan went into fifth gear and drastically increased his speed, outdriving most of the cars on the street.  
  
"Whoa, slow down." Liz said, tightening her seat belt.  
  
"I'm not waiting in line for half-an-hour, while some boats go under the bridge."  
  
"Listen, I'm not kidding," she said, with a threatening tone of voice," The last thing we want is to get pulled over."  
  
As if on cue, red and blue lights began to flash as a police siren filled the air.  
  
"Shit..." Dan muttered as he looked into his rear view mirror and spotted a patrol car signaling for them to pull over.  
  
"Great...now what are we supposed to do?" Liz said.  
  
"Don't worry. I'll think of something..." He said.  
  
"Don't worry? In case you haven't noticed, the back of this truck is filled to the brim with Cocaine!" She cried frantically.  
  
"PULL OVER!" The police officer exclaimed over his bullhorn.  
  
Dan worked the clutch as the truck moved into sixth gear and rapidly approached the bridge. The police car also sped up and rammed into the back of the truck. The vehicle lurched forward and into the opposite lane of traffic. Cars beeped loudly as they passed, narrowly missing the out-of- control truck.  
  
"Son of a..." He said right before an eighteen wheeler barreled towards them, blowing it's horn wildly. Liz screamed as Dan spun the wheel to the left. The truck swerved out of the way, just as the semi tore through the space where they where.  
  
"Holy shit!" Liz shouted as Dan drove straight onto the sidewalk.  
  
The brown truck roared as they sped along, pedestrians leaping out of harm's way.  
  
"Get outta the way!" Dan yelled, honking his horn.  
  
"On the road! Get back on the fuckin' road!" She yelled to Dan.  
  
"I can't!" He yelled back, trying to cross back onto the right side of the road.  
  
The truck approached an outdoor café with many people enjoying a cup of coffee. Dan punched the wheel, honking the horn. The people looked up from their conversations and coffee only to see a large truck coming straight at them. The people screamed as it crashed through, sending chairs and tables flying into the air.  
  
"Move! Get the fuck outta the way!" Dan yelled again, as the truck slammed into a pedestrian, sending him high into the air.  
  
He saw the people scurry like mice out of the way as the truck left the café in shambles. Broken tables and chairs littered the sidewalk and road. Seeing an opening in traffic, Dan turned the wheel to the right and crossed over to the right lane of traffic. Liz looked behind them but saw no sign of the cop.  
  
"The cop...he's gone." She said, taking a deep breath.  
  
Dan risked a quick look into the mirrors, "Where'd he go?"  
  
"I don't know...I guess we lost him."  
  
Dan turned right at the next intersection. Suddenly, a police roadblock came into view. He looked behind him and saw more patrol cars swerve in from behind.  
  
"What do we do?!" Dan yelled, approaching the roadblock.  
  
"...I don't know! Go through it, I guess!" Liz shouted back.  
  
BLAM!!  
  
The sudden noise came from an officer's handgun. The bullet left the officer's handgun and entered the front windshield of the truck, lodging itself right next to Dan's head.  
  
"Sht!" Dan yelled as he ducked.  
  
Another burst of gunfire erupted from the roadblock. This time the bullets made numerous holes in the hood of the truck. Liz ducked her head, trying to cover herself. As she went down, she saw the Uzi that the driver had used earlier. Quickly, she reached down and grabbed the Uzi.  
  
"Hey!" He said, looking down at her," What are you doing?"  
  
Liz stuck the Uzi out the passenger side window and pulled the trigger, holding it down. The gun rumbled as brass shell casings streamed out of the rapidly moving chamber. The officers ducked as glass and shattered metal showered them.  
  
"Hold on!" Dan yelled as the truck slammed into the roadblock, creating a thunderous smashing sound.  
  
They hit in between two patrol cars, sending them spinning into the other parked cop cars. The truck lurched violently into a row of parking meters after being clipped by a spinning patrol car. Dan swore as the meters were ripped from the sidewalk, smashing into the front windshield, cracking it. Quickly, he turned the wheel right. The truck hit one more meter before it screeched back onto the quarter-filled street.  
  
"Now what?!" Liz asked over the constant wailing of the police sirens.  
  
"I don't know...head for the bridge."  
  
They streaked towards the bridge connecting Portland to Staunton Island. One of the patrol cars maneuvered up next to the truck and set itself up, attempting to ram it. Dan saw it pull up on his side, so he drew his Beretta and fired out the window at the cop car next to them. The sharp staccato of the gun echoed in the truck as a bullet punctured the front- right tire. The officer lost control and veered into oncoming traffic, smashing head-on into a pick up truck. Liz watched as the driver of the truck was catapulted through the windshield, onto the street, making a bloody mess. They continued to the bridge, which was rapidly coming into sight. The wave of patrol cars behind them suddenly slowed down.  
  
"Why'd they slow down?" Liz asked, turning around to look.  
  
"That's why!" Dan said, pointing his finger forward at the bridge.  
  
Liz looked ahead and saw the bridge slowly rising up, with a line of boats waiting to pass underneath. Dan floored it and moved the truck into sixth gear.  
  
"What in the hell do you think you're doing?!" Liz cried.  
  
The brown truck sped along the rising bridge.  
  
"We can make it...I know we can!" He said, aiming the truck for the rapidly widening gap in the bridge.  
  
Liz screamed as the truck launched over the crest of the bridge and into the air. 


	3. chapter 3

Time seemed to slow down for Daniel Richter as they flew through the air. He looked to his right and saw Liz, her eyes wide in terror as she gripped the dashboard until her knuckles were white. He turned his head left and saw the blue expanse of water under them, sparkling blue-green in the afternoon sun. Directly underneath them was a long line of boats and barges waiting to pass beneath the raised bridge. Dan was jolted back into reality by the sudden, huge crash of the truck onto the other half of the bridge. The rear bumper had dislodged and fell clattering to the asphalt. The truck bounced violently up and down repeatedly as it finally settled on all four wheels and screeched to a halt on the level street. A huge cloud of white dust surrounded the truck, cocaine that had exploded from the cargo area. Inside the truck, Liz's hair, which was normally in a neatly brushed ponytail, was now in twisted knots, frazzled by the jump. For a few seconds, only their hyperventilated breathing was audible inside the truck. Liz was the first to move.

"We're alive...we're alive!" She cried, finally relieving the dashboard of her tight grip.

Dan was still gripping the wheel tightly, a stunned look on his face from having survived the daredevil maneuver.

"Can you believe it? Oh, my God!" She said as she wrapped her arms around him, enveloping him in an embrace.

Dan's eyes widened at the unexpected hug, but before he could react, Liz came to her senses and followed up the hug with a sharp slap to his face. The contact between her palm and his cheek left a painful red hand shaped mark.

"What in the hell was that for?" He said incredulously.

"Don't you ever do anything that fucking stupid again! You almost got us killed, you idiot!"

Dan only stared with his jaw open, surprised at her abrupt change in mood. "I can't believe this...just can't fuckin' believe this. First, I save both of us from getting sent to prison, then I save your life, and what's the thanks I get? I get slapped!" He shouted, fuming. "Well fuck you! If you were any normal woman, I'd be getting' laid right now for saving your sorry ass!"

Liz snarled and angrily shouted, "My sorry ass! If it wasn't for me, you'd be lying on Main Street right now, full of bullet holes! You—"She said, pointing to him, then herself, "Should be thanking me!"

A small crowd had gathered around them on the sidewalk, staring curiosly at them. Some were staring in shock, a few were edging slowly towards the truck and some tourists were apparently taking snapshots of the truck that had just flown over the gap in the bridge. Inside the vehicle, the two people were still screaming their heads off.

"Okay, you know what? Shut the fuck up! I don't care! Zip it and let's get this over with!" Liz shouted one last time as she plugged her ears for greater emphasis.

Dan took a shuddering breath and squeezed his fists, making his knuckles pop. "Fine." Dan said rudely as he put the truck into gear and continued down the road.

They passed numerous cars, each filled with people gawking at them for jumping over the bridge. They drove in silence for the next few miles, the muffler scraping on the asphalt providing the only noise. Liz stared out the window, engrossed in her thoughts. Her anger at her temporary partner was slowly being bled off.

A few more minutes passed before Dan finally spoke up quietly. "You've got to admit...that was a pretty ballsy move."

Liz gave him a sideways glance before a very small smile tugged at her lips.

"No...that was a pretty stupid move." Liz said finally, as she pulled back her hair and fixed it back into a ponytail.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry if I scared you." Dan replied, adjusting the mirror.

"I wasn't scared. _You_ were scared."

"Okay, sure," Dan said before slowly adding, "You know, if you want, we can stop so you can change into some fresh underwear."

"Oh, shut up. I happen to not hate you as much when your mouth is shut." Liz said immediately as she reached for the radio. She grasped the hard plastic of the tuner knob and switched it on, desperate for the noise to cover his infuriating comments.

"—_Thanks for tuning in to Public Radio WRKP. In this half-hour, we have a very special guest. He has written a number of books and articles that investigates the relationship between young people and violence in the media, especially electronic video ga —"_

The radio emitted static as she changed the station from one of the many boring public radio stations to a random frequency. A full symphony blared through the trucks tiny stereos filling the space with an excerpt from a Mozart symphony. She changed the station again.

"—_For those of you just tuning in, five police fatalities in a—"_

Liz turned the knob.

"Whoa, go back!" Dan said quickly.

Liz complied and put it back on Chatterbox FM.

"—_unidentified individuals driving a delivery truck reportedly attacked and killed five officers today. After being pursued by the LCPD, the truck ran through a police roadblock, and then...wait'll you hear this...and then jumped over the Callahan Bridge."_

"_You're kidding." _A woman's voice said, most likely a co-host.

"_No...I swear. The truck JUMPED over the gap."_

_"Wow. That must've been one helluva sight. So what's happening now?"_

"_Well, now the LCPD is using up a lot of their resources to find whoever did it. They are out in force. "_

"_They don't have any idea who it was?"_

"_Well, this is what Stu, the sound effects guy, told me. He said that the truck was one of the laundry vans that the Triads use for running drugs, but it's just pure speculation."_ The man said,_ "By the way, folks, I'm obligated to say that if anyone at all has any information in regards to the event, please contact your local police station. Okay, stay tuned for the weather and the traffic reports coming up next. You're listening to Chatterbox FM."_

"Great...," Dan said silently, "Now Conway is gonna be swamped with cops. They think its the Triads that killed those cops."

_"_Now what?" Liz asked,clicking the radio off and leaning heavily back into the ripped leather seat of the truck.

"I don't know, but we've got one hell of a problem."

Jimmy Conway paced nervously back and forth inside a large back room of the fish factory. The factory, which actually did produce a large amount of gutted and cleaned fish, was just a front for his large drug operation. He had purchased the factory from its original owner, paying the man with a bullet to the head. His expensive Italian leather shoes tapped loudly against the hardwood floor of the room he was in.

In the corner, several large bags of money were currently being counted by some of Conway's henchmen. Inhabiting the middle of the room were boxes of packaged cocaine, ready to be shipped. Through the open door, the putrid smell of rotted fish floated in. Even after two years, he still had not gotten used to the smell. He ran his hand through his neatly combed black hair and examined his hands. His nails, once healthy and round, were know jagged, the product of hours worth of nervous chewing.

"Lu!" Conway shouted loudly.

Immediately, a small Asian man came trotting through the open door and stopped in front of Conway. Conway walked past him towards the door and peered out, looking at the actual factory. The factory was a maze of conveyor belts, hooks and large sinks. Dozens of workers scrambled around the factory, doing their daily tasks of gutting, cleaning and packaging fish. Satisfied that no one was looking, he slammed the door shut, causing Lu to jump slightly.

"Sir?"

"Where the fuck is my delivery truck? It's one, fucking hour late!" Conway shouted at the top of his lungs, directly into the man's face.

"I-I'm not sure, sir. I've had men out looking for it." Lu said confidently.

"You don't know? You don't fucking know? I'm going to be a dead man if I don't deliver that shit on time to the Triads!" He screamed.

All the men in the room had stopped their counting and watched the debacle. Each of the men was thinking of what Conway was going to do to the poor bastard. They all knew how easily excitable Conway could be.

"Now, I'm going to ask you one more time. Where is my goddamned truck?" He bellowed.

"I...I-I don't know, sir." Lu said meekly.

Conway growled in anger and rammed his fist inside his suit coat. His hand came out holding a rather large handgun. Lu took a step back as he stared down the barrel of the pistol.

"I'm sorry sir. I'll—"He said before the butt of the pistol slammed into his face, just above his left eye. The impact left a large gash in his head. He grunted in pain as crimson blood ran down his face. Conway jacked the action on the semi-automatic pistol, chambering a round. He placed the cold steel of the gun against the man's head and coldly pulled the trigger. The bullet flew out and immediately pierced the skull, tearing Lu's brain to pieces. The lifeless body slumped to the floor; it's head a bloody, ragged mess.

"Get this piece of shit out of here." Conway commanded, "Now, Damnit! And somebody mop this floor!"

All of his cronies had turned away from the mess and went back to counting money, except four that dragged the corpse out of the room, leaving a dark-red stain on the floor.

"Shit...It got all over my shoes." He mumbled to himself.

He walked over to the closed door, making sure not to step in the puddle of blood, and opened it. Most of the workers were standing around, trying to make sense of the gunshot they heard. Then someone shouted something in Chinese. Immediately, a large flock of employees had gathered by the dirty, innards-stained windows of the factory.

"What'd he say?" Conway asked one of the men beside him.

"I, uh, think he said police." The man said.

"What?" Conway asked again, more from disbelief than not hearing it.

"Police, sir."

Suddenly a voice was heard over a bullhorn.

"James Ryan Conway, this is the LCPD. We have a warrant for your arrest. Please come out peacefully and no one will get hurt." The policeman said.

"Oh, fuck!" Conway said as he covered his face in frustration.

"What do you want us to do?" One of his henchmen asked.

Conway thought for a second before responding, "Get all the men assembled and hand out weapons. And don't let those people leave!"

With that said, the men left to gather the others. Conway pulled out his gun once more and fired repeatedly upwards, catching the attention of the confused workers.

"Nobody leaves! If you try to leave, I'll fucking kill you! " He shouted as he fired his gun once more for emphasis.

Apparently, either through a lack of English skills or lack of self-preservation, a few of the workers tried to make a break for it. Conway sighed and emptied the rest of his clip on the fleeing workers. He immediately downed two and injured another. One lucky woman was able to scurry through the gunfire and out into the street, where the police were waiting.

A few minutes later, all of the men had taken positions by a window, making sure they had an open shot on the police. Conway had also taken up arms, as he tightened his grip on his AK-47 assault rifle. He looked through a grimy window and saw the large gathering of policemen. A large amount of patrol cars were parked in the street, each with some officers behind them, aiming their guns at the building.

"They think this is a donut shop or something?" Someone said, eliciting a small laugh from the rest of the men.

"Hey, shut up and keep your eye on the cops!" Conway reprimanded the man.

"This is your last chance, Conway! Surrender yourself and your men and we will not come in and get you forcefully!" The officer warned again.

"Are the hostages locked up in the back?" Conway asked one of his aides.

The man nodded, when suddenly Conway's cell phone rang. The sound was muted until he opened his jacket and took it out.

"Yeah?" He asked roughly.

"Is this James Conway?" The rough voice on the other end asked.

Conway cautiously looked out of the nearest window and searched the crowd, looking for the one talking to him over the phone. He couldn't find him.

"Yeah, this is Conway."

"This is Special Agent Campbell of the FBI. I'm asking you nicely. Please surrender the hostages and yourself, while there's still a chance. If you don't, then we will be forced to enter. And that won't end well for you. I guarantee it." Campbell advised.

Conway gazed out of the window once more. Five carloads of FBI agents had just arrived on the scene, each agent's jacket emblazoned with three gold letters: FBI.

"Are all the weapons handed out?" Conway asked the man next to him.

"Yes, sir." He replied in his distinctive, rumbling voice, "The men are waiting for your orders."

Jimmy Conway nodded and turned back to his phone. "Agent Campbell?"

"Yes?"

Conway took a deep breath. "Come and fucking get me!"


End file.
